


Ravens' Ruin

by Kalla_Moonshado



Series: Dust - The Ruin of Ravens [2]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: A different point of view..., Death, Grief, M/M, a lot of crying, inner monologues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-01-27 19:16:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12588756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalla_Moonshado/pseuds/Kalla_Moonshado
Summary: Companion/Follow up to Dust to Dust.Dust to Dust, from Medivh's point of view - and the aftermath.Medivh vowed that the Legion would pay... and he has no intention of letting them go.Not this time.No matter the cost.





	1. Chapter 1

I.

Something broke the silence of Karazhan. Medivh looked up from his book, frowning. The aura was familiar – and yet, not familiar. Draconic. He sighed, hoping that it wasn’t going to mean a repeat of… He swallowed. No, his mind was his own now. It wouldn’t happen again. He sighed again, then returned to his book. And followed the presence.

The tower itself remained undisturbed. Whoever it was did not seem interested in the library, which was odd. Not a single artifact was touched in the observatory. How… odd.

His questions were answered when soft footsteps echoed along the twisted corridor that led to the smaller, higher library. The footsteps approached, cautiously, and he flicked his wrist. His small pool of light was obliterated as the entire library was illuminated. He looked up, looking directly at the stranger.

Hm. Blue hair. Now that was odd in and of itself. Perhaps on an elf, it would not, but this man was human. No… no, half-human. No, not human at all. This was the draconic presence he felt.

“Greetings, seeker,” he said into the quiet, barely enough to break the silence around him. “I assume you come here seeking, as you did not seem interested in what most others have come here for, and you’ve not contributed to the destruction around us.” His hand closed around the book, and it shut with a sharp snap and a soft puff of dust. He casually set it next to him, where a little side-table manifested to hold it. “So. Come. Sit. Tell me what it is you’ve come seeking, and who you are.” His words were soft, but there was an irritated, though curious edge to them.

He gestured slightly, and a chair that matched the deep, comfortable armchair he rested in manifested as the table had. His eyes never left the stranger, his emerald eyes taking in the tiniest details. Whoever this was, he was nervous. He? Yes. Yes, he. The stranger approached, slowly, cautiously. There was a fear in his eyes that did not speak of a dragon here to lecture him. Well that was good, at least.

“My name is Kalec,” the stranger said. Medivh frowned slightly. Kalec… Kalec… Kalecgos? The Blue who had helped restore the Sunwell? Perhaps. The one who had become Aspect for a short time. The one who was so very attached to Lady Proudmoore… though, perhaps not now. Dalaran wasn’t exactly a… safe haven for someone who still harbored more hatred for the Horde than for the Legion. Dalaran, the Kirin Tor, and the Council was in far better hands with his former apprentice.

The stranger sat, gingerly. “And I’m here, not for books or trinkets. I’m here for you.” He looked up at Medivh, who blinked back, noting the dragon’s eyes were blue – the blue that could engulf one’s soul, and a color only a dragon of the blue flight could possess.  The man’s skin was … almost shimmering. Another point towards ‘dragon’. Well then, perhaps this would be a lecture after all.

“Indeed?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Well then, Kalec…” he paused, his curiosity getting the better of him for just a moment. “Kalecgos? I assume you are a dragon; your skin and eyes betray you.”

“You are correct,” Kalec nodded. “Have you heard of me before, or was that a guess?”

Medivh smiled, though it was a cold smile that did not reach his eyes. “A little of both. I am familiar with some of what happened in Quel’thalas.” He kept his tone cool, just in case this dragon was here to lecture him. He did not want to be friendly with someone he would have to forcibly eject from his tower, even if this time he would not … kill. It was a good thing Khadgar had so thoughtfully put a hole in the window behind him. “So. What is it that brings you here for me?” he asked.

Kalec was quiet for a few moments. He seemed nervous, and his eyes dropped for a time. Medivh was silent, waiting patiently. “Khadgar,” Kalec murmured at last.

Medivh’s eyebrow lifted. What on earth would bring a dragon to him regarding his former apprentice? “My apprentice? What about him?” He could not keep the suspicion out of his voice, any more than he could stop the concern. He mentally cursed himself for his slip.

Since the day Khadgar had followed him into the Nether, he had been terrified to contact the man. His power had grown so much more than Medivh could have imagined. The man was more fitting to be Azeroth’s Guardian than Medivh ever could have dreamed of, and he could not keep the pride from his voice as he had told his former apprentice so. He wanted to say more, but… He was a coward. He was too afraid. And so, had fled, hoping that perhaps his apprentice would at least acknowledge that he did not need a title or ceremony or powers bestowed to be what he was Called to be.

He noticed that the dragon was scrutinizing him, and looked back, evenly. “Word has not reached here of the battles on the Broken Shore, then.”

Medivh’s heart sank. Was he wrong? Did he read things wrongly? Was he needed more than he had… “Some. The last time Khadgar had been here, he asked me to join it.” He chuckled, though the sound was without mirth. “Told me that Azeroth needed her Guardian.” He snorted. “I am no Guardian. But my Young Trust? He… He is one. Heart and soul.” He was unable to keep the pride from his voice, though Kalec’s expression bothered him. The little niggling thought in the back of his mind formed into words as he tilted his head, birdlike. “Why did he not come with you?”

Kalec’s eyes changed. They darkened. There was guilt there, pain that Medivh did not like in the least. “He is … unable.”

“Unable.” Medivh frowned, managing to keep his expression neutral. What had happened? What had gone wrong? What had Khadgar done that he was…

Kalec sighed, and shifted, ran a hand through his hair and looked for all the world like he wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor and become one with it than explain. But, explain he did. Medivh leaned back in his chair, his back and shoulders tensing with every word. He shook his head slightly on learning that Khadgar had been experimenting with _dust_ of all things, biting down on a cry of dismay when he learned his apprentice had been injured – and by a fel weapon at that.

“And now, he’s … been asleep for days. We don’t know what he took, but so far he’s managing to keep the … lines… where they are.” Kalec concluded, looking at Medivh with something like entreaty in his eyes.

Medivh’s eyes closed briefly. “Fool child,” he said, his heart aching. He shook his head. “He wavers on overconfident and foolish, or desperate to earn his place. It was the only thing I could not teach him.” _Even though his place was always, ever, earned; I could never convince him of his… his own abilities and natural charisma. Oh, my Young Trust… what have you done…?_ There was no other way. He would go. He got to his feet. “I’m assuming, then, he’s in Dalaran?”

The dragon nodded. As he got to his feet, he looked confused. Medivh smirked very slightly. “Then we go. I am assuming that’s why you’re here?”

Kalec looked surprised. “I had come for advice, not aware you could leave here, but…”

Medivh hesitated. “As long as I am not… seen, it would be best. Not there.” He paused. “But my Young Trust cannot be brought here, if he is as gravely injured and ill as you say. Thus, I go to him. I assume you aren’t going to let me hit him over the head with something large and blunt?” His chest felt tight, but he hoped to dispel the tension in the room. If Khadgar was dying… there was too much he had to say, before he lost his chance. And if there was some way… he would sacrifice himself and anything he could for his former apprentice to live. The world needed him.

Medivh needed him.

He smiled a little as Kalec laughed. “I’m afraid not. I’ve become a bit protective of him since… well. Since he started taking dusts.”

Medivh’s smile vanished, his voice sharpened. “You mean to say this was not a one-time occurrence?”

Kalec dropped his eyes, shaking his head. “I’m afraid not. He has insisted on overtaxing himself to exhaustion, or worse. I took to staying with him to keep him from doing anything stupid, but.” Kalec spread his hands, his eyes lifting to Medivh’s once more. “Khadgar is very strong-willed, and as the leader of the Kirin Tor, I have little choice but to follow his orders.”

Medivh’s eyebrows found their way into his hairline. “He pulled rank. On you. A member of the Council? As I assume you must be?” At Kalec’s nod, Medivh’s eyebrows lowered, and he furrowed them. “Well.” He snorted a soft laugh. “It seems he did find his balls after all. Took him long enough.” He looked back up at Kalec. “Well then, the longer we sit – or stand – here, the more he fades. I am afraid I probably do not have the ability to pass his wards – while you do. Let me gather a few things, and I am assuming you can take us there?” Considering the wards Khadgar had set over Karazhan before he’d left, he knew his apprentice’s personal wards would be that much stronger, focused and honed over time. Breaking them would probably do damage to the younger mage, and that was the last thing Medivh wanted.

Kalec nodded again. “Of course. Is there anything I can help with?”

Medivh chuckled softly, shaking his head. “No, no. Just stay here. I won’t be but a few moments.” He transformed into a raven and took off through the library door.

Once he was out of earshot, he let out a distressed keen, and headed for his room. Spare robes, a few odds and ends, a couple of books, a blank journal, scribe’s kit and his bathing things found their way into Medivh’s satchel in short order. Medivh threw the satchel over his shoulder, settled it, then regained his raven form, streaking back toward the library.

Once he was back, he pulled his raven feather cloak from his satchel and swung it around his shoulders. “I am ready,” he said, quietly.

Kalec nodded, then concentrated, opening a portal. He gestured Medivh through, and then followed him.

 

Medivh looked around, then smiled, chuckling softly. “I see.”

Kalec looked at him, clearly confused. “What?”

Medivh gestured to the room. “Was this his idea?”

Kalec tilted his head slightly. “What?” he repeated.

Medivh gestured again. “Moving here. This particular suite.”

Kalec shook his head. “No, actually,” he said slowly. “He’s been here since he returned from Outland. This is where he was assigned.” He paused, looking at Medivh suspiciously. “Why?”

Medivh sighed, then shook his head. “Hm.” He looked around. “So it’s been forgotten. This was traditionally the Guardian’s suite.” He paused, taking a step forward so he could take in the room properly. “His décor is… comforting to me.” His eyes slid across the woven tapestries, some of them older than he was. He didn’t miss the trunks and chests against the walls, speaking of Khadgar’s squirreling habits from his youth. The low tables, the worn, comfortable armchairs and sofa reminded him of the sitting room in which he and Khadgar had spent many an evening engaged in conversation or a game of chess or riddles. He nodded, once, in satisfaction, then turned to Kalec. “I assume he’s in the bedroom?”

Kalec nodded. “I assume you know the way then?” He gestured at the door.

“Of course,” Medivh replied, almost brightly. He moved through the study, his strides purposeful. A cursory glance told him that the study was cluttered, just as his own always was. He couldn’t hide the smile of approval.

The bedroom door stood open, and he moved toward it, made to go through it…

… and stopped short on the threshold. His heart stopped as short as his steps had. “Oh,” he breathed.

Khadgar lay, pale and wan, looking as though he had been distilled into the bare minimum of what his spirit would allow. His arms were at his sides, starkly pale against the rich crimson velvet of the comforter. His hair was limp, dull, and almost indistinguishable from the linen of the pillow under his head.  He vaguely heard Kalec say something, but he wasn’t listening.

He pulled his cloak and satchel off, draped the cloak over the footboard as he had many times when he’d stayed in this room. His satchel dropped to the floor, unheeded. “Oh, Khadgar,” he breathed, his words shivering with distress – and a little despair. “What _have_ you done…?” He slid his hand under Khadgar’s nearer hand and lifted it into both his own. He felt the wrist for a pulse.

Kalec seemed to be at a loss behind him. “Is there anything I can get you, Magus?”

“No, thank you. Don’t stray too far, please, but…” Medivh paused, then continued without turning to look up at Kalec. “Please, let me have a few moments with him… alone?” His attention was clearly on Khadgar, having eyes for nothing more. One hand strayed to Khadgar’s forehead, brushing a strand of hair away from his skin. _Oh, Young Trust…_

“Of course,” he heard, vaguely from behind him. “I will be out in the sitting room.” A moment later, the door closed softly.

Medivh pulled the blanket back, his eyes darting to the lines. He winced. Kalec had told him what they were, but… the reality of them was worse. He ran a finger gingerly over the wound scar. Whatever fel had been in the weapon was firmly in the mage’s veins now, and there was no hope of drawing it out. He moved the blankets back, tucking and smoothing them gently with one hand, the other still twined in Khadgar’s.

“I don’t know what you took, my Young Trust,” he murmured quietly, “but you must fight this.” He lifted the hand to his lips as he settled on the bed, tucking one leg under him. “Don’t tell me that I’ve come here only to lose you.” He sighed, quietly. He reached up to run his hand through Khadgar’s hair, feeling his temperature. Khadgar’s eyelids didn’t move, the lashes didn’t so much as flutter. “Was this how you felt…? So long ago when I was sleeping? When you stayed by my side and…” He closed his eyes, his throat closing.

He rested his cheek against the backs of Khadgar’s fingers. _Damn it. I never said a word… never once. I got a second chance… and now… and now it may be too late. Coward…_ He gently lowered Khadgar’s hand, twining the fingers with his own.

“My turn then. You talked to me. Stayed with me. And I will do the same.” He closed his eyes, ignoring the tears, letting them fall. “You have to wake up.”

His voice dropped to a whisper that was somehow so filled with emotion that it made his chest hurt. “You _have_ to wake up…” He watched the placid face. “Please, Khadgar… My Young Trust… you must wake. Don’t leave me… for the sake of whatever will listen please don’t leave me…” He resisted the urge to pull the pale mockery of his former student that lay beside him into his arms. Instead, he kicked his boots off, letting them lie where they fell, and lay down beside the still form, letting go of Khadgar’s hand and wrapping an arm around him. “Not now,” he whispered. “Please, wake up…”

No matter what he said, no matter how he pleaded, Khadgar did not move. Medivh checked to make sure he was alive at least twice, and could feel a pulse, steady, if a little weak, and the slow, shallow breaths that fed it. But not another muscle stirred.

 

Medivh talked himself hoarse, until he could no longer whisper. He buried his head against Khadgar’s shoulder. _I’m too late… damn it all to the Nether I’m… I never should have left him…_ He let the bitter tears fall, then sighed, and rose, his fingertips caressing Khadgar’s cheek. He stepped back, nearly tripped over his boots before kicking them more or less under the bed, then turned away. Perhaps the dragon – Kalec, he reminded himself – would have more answers.

He moved back into the sitting room, finding Kalec deep in thought, a glass at his lips. As Medivh moved into the room, Kalec looked up, his eyes full of hope. “Any changes?” Medivh shook his head, procured a glass of the cider that was on the table, and sighed. “Damn,” Kalec murmured. “I had hoped…”

Medivh drained his glass, refilled it, then moved to settle in the chair opposite Kalec. “Hoped?”

“A familiar voice, familiar presence…” Kalec trailed off, shrugging.

 _Perhaps heart calling to heart,_ Medivh thought. “It’s … almost as though he isn’t there,” he murmured. “Almost as though what lies there is an empty shell. It breathes. Its heart beats. But I could not … feel.” That’s what it was. That’s what felt so wrong. The presence of his apprentice was … missing. Even as he looked now, he could feel only the dragon across from him within the rooms.

“That’s what… That’s why it didn’t feel right,” Kalec said suddenly, startling Medivh out of his thoughts. “He was there when I picked him up. He was there when I got a healer. He was still there when I got him back here.” The dragon-mage’s skin shimmered as he paled, his crystalline eyes darkening with distress. “You don’t think he’s—“

“He isn’t dead,” Medivh said quickly, almost snappishly. He reined in his temper, shoving the thought away harshly. “Fled, perhaps. I’ve heard of it happening. Here,” he rested his free hand on his chest, “but not here,” he tapped his temple with one finger. He would know. There were times Sargeras had done things he could not cope with … and he himself had fled. “If we figure out the reason he would have fled, we may have a better chance at getting him through this.”

Kalec sighed. “And we have a felblade wound and … some unknown dust overdose to contend with.”

“So we begin with what we know.” Medivh put his glass down, and leaned forward a little, his elbows on his knees. “The lines, you say, have not spread?” he pressed. The lines would spread, and quickly, if Khadgar was not fighting the fel in his body. His body’s natural defenses would not know what to do with it, and would fever him until he burned out – but his magical defenses, the ones that were instinct and reflex so late in his craft… those would be what was working against it – unless it was the dust he had inhaled. That was yet another possibility. The arcane particles would act as a defense, or perhaps even an attack…

“If they have, it’s been miniscule changes,” Kalec answered.

Medivh nodded. “Then he’s still fighting – or at least his subconscious control over magic is.” Kalec blinked at him, then nodded. “And if his subconscious is fighting, there is something there to protect,” Medivh continued. “Otherwise, there would be no control at all to fight it at all, and he would have been gone before you came to find me.” He sighed, tapping his lips. If Khadgar’s subconscious was still fighting – if his body was still fighting – there was something there. So. He had fled. But why? “The only problem is… How do we get around an overdose of unknown arcane substance, or substances, to … to…” He trailed off. If it was not his body… that dust. Whatever he took… “Unless it is that unknown substance, or substances, that is keeping the blade’s poisons at bay.”

“Perhaps,” Kalec replied. “The healer – the High Priest, in fact – mentioned something along those—“

Medivh’s heart sank. Well, if it was just the substance keeping Khadgar alive…

A cry cut through his thoughts, and stabbed through his heart. He knew that voice, and he knew that tone, and he never wanted to hear it again as long as he lived. He shot to his feet, and noted that Kalec had done the same. Emerald met crystalline blue. Kalec nodded and sank back into his chair.

Medivh was already halfway through the study. He opened the bedroom door, and gasped, darting through and nudging the door mostly closed with his foot. The bed looked like it had been caught in a whirlwind, and Khadgar was tangled in the wreckage. The comforter was half over the footboard. The blankets were kicked to the side and the bottom of the bed, and Khadgar himself was tangled in the top sheet by one leg, his pillows knocked off both sides of the bed or laying on the bed but not where they belonged, and Khadgar’s hands were clawing the sheet below him.

And he was not still. He was in obvious pain, and had been for several moments at least. Medivh was at his side, lifting him a little, one hand against his chest in a soothing gesture within a moment. “Shh,” he soothed, his other hand reaching down to pry the sheet away from his trapped leg. Before he could manage, Khadgar had the bottom sheet pulled loose and twined in his hands.

Heart aching, Medivh finally managed to get Khadgar to be still – just long enough to see that the lines were creeping along his skin. “Kalec!” he cried, unable to keep panic from his voice. _No… Light no…_

“What is… Oh no…” Medivh paid little attention to the dragon-mage behind him, his eyes on the lines as they reached towards Khadgar’s heart, down his torso, and up along his chest. “We have to stop them,” Kalec breathed. “If they reach his heart or any major artery, he’s done for.”

Medivh’s mind darted through their earlier conversations. “We have to find out what he was taking – and get it into him,” he murmured. He looked up at Kalec. “Do you know if he had more of it?” Knowing Khadgar, he would have prepared at least two of whatever it was he … or so he prayed.

“He asked me to bring him… Wait… Perhaps.” And then he was gone again. Medivh opened his mouth, but Kalec returned before he could draw breath for questions. He held out a pale green silk pouch. “He asked me to bring this to him. I cannot open it.”

Medivh took the pouch, wincing as his fingertips tingled at the wards laid into and over the silk. “Keep him still; the more he moves, the faster his heart beats, and the faster that will spread.” He nodded to Khadgar’s chest, then shifted so Kalec could take his place. Medivh focused on the pouch. Its laces were lose, but Medivh could not tug them open or pry the cinch. _Foolish child… I know you’d be loath for others to discover your secrets but… then again, you didn’t expect to dance with Death that day either…_ He sighed, and began unweaving the protections.

A low cry came from behind him as he finally got the seal over the cinch open, and he could feel the stare of the caster. “Don’t—“ _I know… I know… Don’t pry. Don’t reveal. Don’t judge… Oh Khadgar… why…_

He dug his fingers into the pouch, withdrawing a vial, the multicolored cacophony of arcane tingling against his senses. “Is this what he took?” He asked, holding it up to Kalec.

“That looks like it.”

Khadgar moaned, brokenly.

Medivh ignored it, looking through the pouch. “He prepared several, it appears,” he murmured. He pressed the vial into Kalec’s hand. “Here. Find out what it is, we’re going to need more of it.” Kalec paled, but nodded, caressed Khadgar’s cheek, then left the room.

Khadgar reached a hand after him. “No…” he whispered, looking devastated. Whether the word had been in response to Kalec going to hunt down the formula or to Kalec leaving him, Medivh could not tell. _So. They … grew close. Perhaps I…_

No, he would think of that later. Once Khadgar was stable. He sat on the edge of the wreckage of the bed, noting that Kalec had laid a blanket across Khadgar’s legs and hips. He pulled another vial from the pouch and  set the pouch on the bedside table. He carefully pulled the stopper from the vial, setting it aside.

“…M-Medivh…?” Khadgar’s voice was soft, bewildered, shocked. Medivh ignored the tight feeling as his heart tried to stop.

“Shh…” Medivh gently reached to stroke Khadgar’s forehead. “Can you sit up? You need to take this, and quickly, before those lines get any farther.” He glanced down, hiding his wince; the lines had curled around Khadgar’s side and started creeping along his back, and the one reaching for his heart was far too close for his comfort.

“But…” Khadgar protested, trying to edge away, though at least he had pulled himself into a sitting position.

Medivh shook his head. “No, do not argue. You’ve been unconscious for days, and you need this in your system.” He pressed the open vial into Khadgar’s shaking hand. Then glared.

Khadgar stared at it for a moment and sighed. Almost automatically, his other hand lifted to form a cup with his palm, and he tipped the vial over it, pouring a measure of the dust into his hand, then handed the vial back to Medivh.

Medivh took the vial, and pointedly turned his back as he reached for the stopper and resealed the vial, setting it on the table. He heard the telltale sign of the dust being taken, and then the susurration of skin against skin as Khadgar dusted his hands off after.

Only then did Medivh turn back, his expression pained as he noted that Khadgar had curled in on himself, resting his head on his knees. Hesitantly he rested his hand on his former student’s back, rubbing in slow, soft and comforting circles, longing to pull the man against him and just hold him.

Khadgar’s skin turned to ice under his hand. Before he could reach for a blanket to pull around Khadgar’s shoulders, however, the skin turned fiery, as though he was fevered. There was another shudder, and then a low, soft moan. Neither of them spoke for several long moments.

Finally, Khadgar sighed, and relaxed. Medivh hesitated, then drew away. “How…? Why…?” Khadgar looked up, his eyes almost silver instead of blue. Once again, Medivh had to stop himself from gathering the younger mage against him.

“Kalec came to ask me for advice,” Medivh said softly. “But I was not about to find out you were here in pain and in trouble if I could do something about it.” He sighed, his eyes sad. “Explain,” he pleaded. “Please.”

Khadgar dropped his eyes. Medivh could almost hear the tick of Khadgar’s mind, trying to decide what to say. Finally, his shoulders drooped a little as he answered. “I had to,” he murmured, reluctantly. “Our forces were being slaughtered out there. I couldn’t stand by and watch it happen.”

Well, that explained this most recent overdose… Medivh wasn’t about to let it go, though. “And before that?”

Khadgar’s sigh was pained. “Kalec told you.” His voice was flat, and it was not a question. His eyes lifted, then his head followed so he could look at Medivh properly. Medivh nodded back. Khadgar visibly resisted rolling his eyes. “The first time,” he said, his voice subdued now, “was to create a salve that would save countless lives. I… I was stupid, but it was effective.” He licked his lips. “The second was when there were Legion ships targeting Dalaran, and the defenses were…” he paused, his eyes flickering up to Medivh’s and then down again. “Failing. I _had_ to.” His voice was plaintive now, begging Medivh to understand… which he did not. “I was exhausted and I needed the focus.” He lowered his eyes, then his head a little. “I have no excuse for the weeks I spent on the Broken Shore – I tried to do everything myself.” He licked his lips again, wincing a little. “And this time… this time…”

“You overdosed, Khadgar,” Medivh murmured. Khadgar was in no shape to keep talking. Medivh patted his shoulder. “Stay,” he said softly, then rose and left the room, crossed the study and wove his way back to the sitting room. He poured a glass of cider, then carefully brought it back into the bedroom, pressing it into Khadgar’s hand as he resumed his seat. “Drink this; from what I understand, you’ve had precious little that would remain down.” The wince in Khadgar’s eyes told him that it was the bare truth of it. Medivh held Khadgar’s hands, steadying them as Khadgar curled his fingers around the glass. He took a careful sip, and Medivh nodded with approval.

Khadgar sighed a little in relief, his eyes closing as he took a second sip. He shifted, clearly uncomfortable, then reached his free hand down to the scar where he had been run through. “Why does it hurt so much…?”

“It was a felblade,” Medivh replied quietly, his eyes following the hand to the scar, and then the lines that reached hungrily out. “Whatever you … concocted – that is keeping it from taking you.”

Khadgar opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “I could… I mean … You sent Kalec to have it…”

Medivh moved before he could stop himself, one finger pressing gently against Khadgar’s lips to still the words. “You are in no condition to do more than lie there for now. Getting up, moving around too much – it could do serious damage.”

Khadgar took another sip from his glass, unable to meet Medivh’s eyes. “My notes,” he murmured, just loud enough for Medivh to catch the words. “In the drawer of the desk. Under the raven.” Medivh lifted an eyebrow, then patted his apprentice’s back gently, then rose to hunt them down. “Medivh—“

Medivh turned, to find Khadgar looking up at him, an expression of despair, sorrow and… apology? Yes, apology clear in his eyes. “Yes, Young Trust?”

Khadgar blushed, the soft color a stark contrast against his skin. “I’m sorry.”

Medivh looked back at him, his eyes trailing down to the scar, the lines, then back up to Khadgar’s face. He turned away before he could reply. He wasn’t sure he could. He looked at the drawers of Khadgar’s desk, and noted that none of them had a raven on them. He started to wonder what on earth it could have meant. He opened a drawer, scanned its contents, and found only extra pens, quills, bottles of ink, and a paperweight that looked like chipped quartz.

The second drawer was full of blank sheets of paper. The third, and topmost, was empty, and shallow. He started to close it when he caught sight of a tiny inked raven on the inside of one side of the drawer. Medivh smiled. Of course, a false bottom. He reached out and touched the raven with one finger, and it depressed a tiny bit. He heard a catch release, and gently tapped the bottom of the drawer, which lifted. He removed it and set it on the surface of the desk. Beneath it was a sheaf of notes. He rifled through them, noting that they were all properties of various dusts, crystals, gemstones and plants. The inks were different colors, and several were marked. The last few pages contained a formula that even he could not follow at a first glance.

Whatever Khadgar had done, he had done it thoroughly. Medivh’s eyes darted back to the bedroom door, and he set the notes on the desk, replaced the false bottom of the drawer, and reset the mechanism. Kalec was not in the sitting room when Medivh went looking, so he set the sheaf of notes in a place where Kalec would see them easily.

By the time he returned to the bedroom, he saw that Khadgar seemed to have ignored his subtle order to stay put. His arms were planted on the mattress, and he looked as though he was about to get up. Medivh cleared his throat, glaring… and Khadgar froze, looking guilty. Khadgar sighed, shifted his legs back, and refused to look at his mentor.

Medivh sighed and crossed back to the bed, sitting down again. One hand reached to cup fingers under Khadgar’s chin, tilting his head up and turning it to face him. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said, softly. He reached out to trace the black and green line vining towards Khadgar’s heart. “We _will_ get you through this. You will not die here.” He stopped, his throat closing and he could feel the tears prickle the backs of his eyes. He blinked, rapidly, forcing them away. “I … I will not allow it.” Medivh dropped his eyes, without letting Khadgar go. “I _cannot_ allow it.” His words were still soft, barely audible in the quiet of the room.

Medivh’s eyes lifted again. Khadgar looked as though he wanted to say something… but Medivh stopped him. His eyes dropped to Khadgar’s lips, and before he could stop himself, leaned forward to kiss them. Desire rose sharply in him, and he distilled it, communicating it in the brief kiss. When he drew back, he noted that Khadgar hadn’t moved, his eyes wide with shock.

“There will be time to talk, later, about this,” he said softly, before Khadgar could say anything. If he didn’t get this out, and get it out now, he was never going to. He was faced with the possibility of being too late to actually say what he wanted to say, and he would not say it to a memorial, or … or… “But if I do not say this, I will regret it if we are wrong.” His eyes held Khadgar’s, wanting badly to look away again, but … after all that had happened, he deserved to have the words spoken _to_ him, not _at_ him. “I came here because I had a second chance. I had the chance to right what I’ve done in many ways, and have, but one of those things I need to right is something personal.” He paused, licking his lips. “That is what I have done to _you._ ” Khadgar dropped his eyes and tried to turn his head. Medivh reinforced his grip.

“No, _listen_ to me,” he hissed. “While I meant what I had said in Karazhan that day, there was more I wanted to say – and I could not, would not while others were present, nor after because…” He dropped his eyes, then lifted them again. “I was a coward and could not say the words.” He sighed. “I suppressed much when you were my student, Khadgar. I kept my distance just enough so you could do what you had to do – and you did. Now that I have this second chance, and know that you are here… like this…” Medivh paused again, swallowing around the lump forming in his throat. “You _must_ live. Not for Azeroth alone – but for _me_.” He closed his eyes, and chuckled, the sound holding nothing of mirth. “And even now, I cannot say the words.”

Khadgar’s pulse under his fingers sped up, and Medivh cursed himself, glancing down at the lines across Khadgar’s chest. They were still, though the twining green and black lines mocked him. He lifted his other hand and traced it. If he didn’t say it… and say it now…

“I have loved you for years.” The words were quieter still, not quite a whisper, but just above. “It was not my place to seduce my student. I had hoped that there was a way to free myself of that horrible darkness, but when I realized there wasn’t, you were the spark that kept me from doing much, much worse.” He sighed, his eyes rising again. “You are no longer my student, but an Archmage in your own right, by your own hands, and less mine.” The pulse under his fingers fluttered, and his eyes darted back to Khadgar’s chest, fear silencing him for several moments.

“Now it is up to you,” Medivh whispered, unable to look away from Khadgar’s eyes.

He felt Khadgar swallow, and his eyes darkened slightly, though he did not look away. He felt Khadgar’s hand cover the one resting on his chest, and those eyes searched his own. “That’s why you pushed me away,” Khadgar murmured, something like understanding blossoming in the sapphire depths. “That night – when I kissed you after what happened with those orcs. I’d… I’d fought it, the entire flight home, as you held me after and…” He suddenly stopped, as though he realized he was babbling.

Medivh’s chest ached, as though there was a band around his heart and closing on it. Oh how well he remembered. The child-not-child had wormed his way into his heart already, and he was not about to let him fall off a gryphon a second time that day. One arm had held him close, the other handling the reins, guiding with knee and heel more than bit and bridle. His hold had been possessive, his arm across Khadgar’s chest, his hand spanning his shoulder, close enough that he could hear his breath over the wind of their flight.  When they landed, he had guided his new apprentice himself, instead of turning him over to Moroes. He had been through an ordeal, and it would only be fair, considering he _had_ gotten the boy into so much trouble without meaning to. Sure it was a good test, but… the fall was most certainly not intended, but the response… oh the _response_ to the challenges presented him…

He had personally seen to it that he bathed, made sure he’d eaten, and tucked him into his bed, and inadvertently left himself open for just a moment… when he’d felt lips against his. He had reacted instinctively and returned it before he realized what was happening. He had pulled away, gently, but firmly, explained the reaction as just that – reaction to a stress. It had hurt, those azure eyes had been so open and pleading, and he longed so badly to answer it. He had told him that after a day of rest that it would settle down, and if they did what those eyes begged of him, Khadgar would live to regret his rash actions. He did not immediately leave, choosing to give in to holding his young apprentice, soothing him through – what he had thought – hysterics that had been pushed aside when he tasted combat, confessions of love that were born from the gentle care he had shown that evening. It was so easy, so easy to jump to those conclusions after great stress, after all.

And yet, Medivh remembered how wrong it felt, laying the young mage down when he’d fallen asleep, still firmly in his master’s arms. How wrong it felt to pull the blankets up over his chest, to brush his face, so peaceful in slumber. How wrong it felt when he stood up and returned to his own room, and … how wrong it was to be so cool, if still somewhat affectionate, to his new apprentice, insisting that he take a day of recovery as they spoke.

Medivh sighed, his voice lowering to a whisper. “When you kissed me and I returned it, I’d wanted so much more. But you were my _student_. I _couldn’t_. I held you out of my own selfish desire. I promised you that one day you would have all you ever wanted.” He drew a shaking breath. “And now…” He paused, swallowing. “You are no longer my student. And I would give anything – _anything_ – to go back and change it. To act on what we _both_ wanted. I cannot begin to tell you how much it hurts to see you like this, and know that I cannot do anything to change it. I have been told it is up to you to fight but I will be _damned_ if I let you fight alone.” He searched Khadgar’s eyes, unable to stop the flow of words now they had started. “There is nothing more that I want right now than to act on those desires, if you would let me. But I cannot.” Another pause, and now Medivh looked away, unable to take the piercing gaze his former student now leveled at him. “It would be your undoing, and this world needs you.” He shook his head. “ _I_ need you,” he amended. “So we fight.”

Medivh fell silent. He started to pull away, unnerved a little by the loud silence as Khadgar did not respond. Before he could twitch, a hand was threading into the hair on the back of his head, and pulling. Not sharply, but _insistently_. He felt lips against his own, so similar to that night, decades ago. Soft. Hesitant. Before he could react, Khadgar had pulled away just far enough to speak. “Promise me, then, that you will keep reminding me,” he murmured, his lips still brushing Medivh’s as he spoke. “Reminding me of why I’m fighting. I already know I fight for Azeroth, but this…” He could feel the shaking breath before Khadgar continued. “I need the reminders. Promise me you won’t push me away. Promise me that the next time this Light-forsaken drug throws me into mindless desire that you will be here.”

Medivh started to nod before Khadgar had even finished, his lips claiming the younger mage’s in a sweet kiss of pledging. “I promise,” he whispered.

He opened his mouth to say more, but there was a tap from behind him, and he and Khadgar both quickly darted backwards away from each other. Khadgar was blushing, his eyes firmly on the blanket covering him.

Kalec frowned a little, looking sincerely apologetic. “I found your notes, Khadgar – and it was the final bit of the puzzle. We can recreate this as long as it’s needed.”

Medivh gave Kalec a nod of gratitude, his eyes speaking more than his simple words. “Good. Thank you.”

Kalec nodded back. “The High Priest wants to see you, Khadgar – not immediately, but soon, to check your condition.”

Khadgar groaned and opened his mouth. Medivh covered his mouth with his hand, drawing an indignant yelp from the younger mage. “I know about you and your constant insistence on sending healers away. Not this time.” Without removing his hand, he turned back to Kalec. “Whenever she is ready; we can have him cleaned up and back in bed within the hour.” Khadgar made another noise, and Medivh lifted his palm a little as Khadgar tried to bite him.

Kalec chuckled. “I’ll send a note in about an hour then. For now, can you take him through to the sitting room? Modera’s sent up dinner for us all. I’ll take care of the bedding, then join you.”

Medivh nodded, then slid an arm around Khadgar, helping him to his feet with one steadying hand, the other reaching for a wrap-robe that was now tangled in the bedding. He pulled the robe around Khadgar’s shoulders, and as Khadgar pulled it closed and belted it, began guiding his former student thorough to the sitting room, step by trembling step.

Dinner was simple, light stew and bread, which Medivh was upset to note that Khadgar picked at. It had once been one of his favorite foods. Then again, after some of what he’d heard that went on during his time on the dead Draenor… He could understand how it had lost its appeal.

Still, he needed his strength if he was going to keep fighting. Medivh was gentle as he coaxed and wheedled, joined by Kalec. It was slow going, but speed didn’t matter, especially since he’d been bedridden for nearly a week, and unlike his own ‘naps’, had been unable to keep anything down during that time.

Once Khadgar had eaten, Kalec left them to go find the High Priest, and Medivh guided Khadgar into the bathing room, leaving him to his own devices while he ran a hot bath. Khadgar was much stronger by the time he returned to Medivh’s side, his step surer, his back straighter. Medivh knew the hot bath would do much to revive him as well – it always did for him.

Then again, he never was stabbed with a felblade and fought fel poisoning for his life.

By the time Medivh helped him out of the tub and handed him a towel, however, Khadgar had much more color back, and he was definitely stronger.

Kalec had left the bed turned down, and the fresh sheets crackled a little as Khadgar settled, and Medivh gently pulled the blankets up to cover him and stayed with him as he dozed.

The High Priest was a blood elf woman with bright auburn hair, and a shy disposition. At least at first glance. She tapped on the doorframe and spoke to Medivh with diffidence and respect. When she gently wakened Khadgar, and he groaned, she turned stern.

And took no nonsense as she examined the wound marks on his torso, front and back, then eyed the lines. She ignored his protests that he was ‘fine’, and told him to shush and fired questions at him in such a way that he was startled into answering. She pulled the blankets down, swatting his hands away when he made a bid for modesty, and reminding him that she’d seen more naked men in her lifetime than hairs on his head. She asked Medivh to keep Khadgar still, and flooded the lines with Light, and was quick to soothe him when he screamed in pain. She pressed a hand to his chest, and sank into a trance, and when she came out of it, she patted Khadgar on the head gently, advised him to sleep, then brushed his temple.

He dropped off mid-complaint.

Medivh decided he liked her.

The woman, who had introduced herself as ‘Briyanna’, tugged Medivh out of the room and closed the bedroom door, firmly. Her cheerful demeanor was gone, and she reached up to push Medivh down into the desk chair. Her eyes, which he noted were more blue than green; odd for a blood elf, turned on him with… pity.

“I don’t know how to say this gently,” she began softly, running a hand through her hair. “There is little hope. Whatever he’s taking is the only thing keeping him alive, Magus, and there’s absolutely no way he can keep taking it forever. It’s destroying him as much as it’s helping.”

Medivh stared at her, stunned. He was suddenly grateful she had pushed him into the chair. If she hadn’t, he’d have fallen into it. “What?” he asked, his heart aching, his eyes wide with shock. “No, that’s—“

“All there is to say about it,” she cut him off, sighing wearily. “I’ve done what I can – but…” She paused. “I mean, you can try raising the dosage of that… dust, but there’s really nothing more you can do. It had too much time to spread, and it _is_ spreading. It just needs to _touch_ a major artery or his heart and from there it will spread faster than anything can stop. It … It would be a matter of hours instead of weeks or days.” Medivh swayed a little, staring straight ahead of him, somewhere around her midsection.

Briyanna lowered herself to one knee so she could meet his eyes, her own filled with compassion to counter his own emerald eyes, darkened and blanked by shock. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “The two of you have… history.” She bit her lip. “And I… I can see the bond between you… and…” Her shoulders slumped a little. “Oh, damn there’s nothing I can say that can even…” She shook her head, looking pained.

Medivh shook off enough of his shock to reach out and lay a hand on her shoulder. “I… I should have expected it,” he said, sadly. “You say there’s absolutely nothing that can do anything at all?”

Briyanna rubbed the side of her nose and sighed, then reached up to touch his hand. “No,” she replied quietly. “Barring a miracle or him suddenly being able to burn it away? It _will_ consume him.” She looked up to meet his eyes, then dropped them. He could feel the devastation in them, and knew she could see it plainly. “He will either turn into your worst nightmare or it will kill him outright.” She faltered, then, letting her hand drop from his, settling it in her lap with the other. “It would be kinder, in all honesty, to just.. let … let me…” She looked away,  a pained expression on her face.

“Let you?” Medivh pressed, his heart sinking. Footsteps behind him alerted him to Kalec’s presence, though he didn’t look up.

“I’ve… I’ve done it for another. He fought me when I did it, so he… he knew, but if we put Khadgar to sleep, he just… he wouldn’t wake up again. No pain. Quietly. He… He would never know.” Her voice was thick, and Medivh could hear the disgust in the words. In that moment, he did not envy her healing abilities. After all, if one knew how to put you together and bring you back from death if they were quick enough, they would know how to do the opposite. It would be kinder to let Khadgar go with dignity… but he couldn’t give up. Not yet.

“High Priestess… are you telling us that you want to—“

Briyanna looked up at Kalec, clearly stung. She shook her head, almost violently. “I don’t _want_ to, Archmage, but – it would be kinder than keeping him drugged and letting… letting that fel poison infect him further.”

Medivh closed his eyes. “She just finished telling me,” he said, his voice absolutely flat and lacking any emotion, “that he has no hope beyond a miracle, even if we keep him drugged.” He looked up, and found shock in Kalec’s eyes. His own prickled, and he blinked, trying to keep the welling tears at bay. “He’s going to die, no matter what we do.” He bit his lip, keeping it steady. Weeping was beneath him.

Kalec looked at him for a moment, then moved behind the chair, and rested a hand on his shoulder. Medivh stiffened, then felt arms around him – the priestess. His breath hitched. All of his time spent wishing for a second chance, and it was slipping through his fingers like sands through a shattered hourglass. He squeezed his eyes shut, and felt the burn of tears sliding across his skin. And he couldn’t stop them. He refused, however, to give them voice; there was no use in having Khadgar hear him. Let him sleep.

Oh but how he longed to howl and rage against this injustice. It wasn’t _fair_. Not to him. Not to Khadgar. Not to Azeroth. Kalec was speaking, and he wrenched his attention to listen as he felt Kalec’s arms around his shoulders.

“Other than perhaps Modera, who we can trust to keep this behind her teeth, this doesn’t leave this room until… until he’s…”

“Agreed,” Briyanna murmured, her voice shaking.

Medivh could only nod. Trying to offer reassurance of his understanding, he lifted one hand to touch Kalec’s arm, the other to rest on the priestess’ shoulder. It seemed neither of them believed it, for they did not move. It was several moments later when Kalec finally pulled away, and the priestess did the same.

“Do you want me to stay?” the priestess asked softly. Medivh shook his head, looking at her. She nodded, her eyes offering compassion as she rose. “This decision is not mine to make.” Addressing both mages, she continued. “I trust that you will send for me if you choose to…” she trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

Medivh could not answer, his throat closed around his ability to respond, even to nod. “I will,” he heard Kalec reply from behind him.

Briyanna nodded, returned her gaze to Medivh, and reached out to brush her fingers against his cheek, trailing them into his beard. The touch caused him to close his eyes. It spoke much to him. Her sorrow, her hopes, and a wish that he found peace where there was none to be had. He did not hear her leave.

“Medivh… I…” Kalec murmured.

Medivh raised his hand, and the dragon-mage trailed off. “If I could,” he whispered, “I would take it on myself. He is still so… so young.” His head turned towards the bedroom door. “I am a whisper of the past – a whisper that would choose to stay as such but…” He shook his head, looking back at Kalec. “I _cannot_ take his place, Kalec. Perhaps I was once Guardian, perhaps I still am, I don’t even _know_.” He looked at the door again. “But this world needs _him_ ,” he said, nodding at the door, “not me. _He_ is the one who brought the peoples together, the one who’s united Azeroth. I could just… pass back into shadows and…” He swallowed. “And break his heart a second time, but he has friends who could support him, as well as his legacies of the champions he’s risen over time, the bonds he’s forged with each of them as well as the rest of the Council – the rest of the Kirin Tor.” Not that he was fond of that notion, considering… He shook his head with a sigh. “But I cannot take an injury like that from him. If I could…” He trailed off, lowering his head into his hands. He would take the wound and wouldn’t bother fighting. Or maybe he would… no… no, if he could take the wound, he would take it and let it kill him, swiftly. Someone could convince Khadgar he’d only seen his former master in fevered, dust-induced dreams and hallucinations. He ignored the tears that fell. Light, it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t _fair_. Khadgar didn’t deserve this fate.

Medivh stifled a sob. If anyone deserved what Khadgar was going through… he did. And he would accept it, if only…

“Medivh,” Kalec’s voice broke, and Medivh was startled to feel a hand on his shoulder. “There is still hope of a miracle.”

Medivh wanted to laugh. Miracles. A miracle brought him back to life to stop the Legion from taking more of Azeroth. The Legion he had invited in. Instead, he simply let his tears fall, perversely reveling in the pain that renewed itself with every beat of his heart. If he mourned Khadgar now… perhaps… perhaps he could keep himself cheerful. He could keep up the act, and let Khadgar have his hopes. If anyone deserved a miracle, it was the man that lay beyond that door.

He rubbed at his eyes and cheeks with his sleeve. “I love him, Kalec,” he said softly, his voice still thick. “And I only just told him. I’ve loved him for so long, and when I died I couldn’t tell him, and now it’s too late, and there’s just… so much I…” He was babbling. He was reduced to _babbling_. What next? Was he going to have a complete breakdown like he’d had back when…

Kalec was tugging at his shoulder, urging him to get up. He looked back at the closed bedroom door and stood, nodding his understanding. Let Khadgar rest. He needed it, and didn’t need a pair talking to disturb him just outside his door. Before he had taken more than a single step towards the sitting room, however, Kalec’s arms were around him. “I know,” the dragon-mage whispered. “She said we had a little time. I will give you as much time as we possibly can give. Perhaps your love is the miracle we need for him.”

Medivh swayed on his feet, his chest aching. His love had nearly killed the man once. His selfishness. His need to have him near. Kalec was leading him, and he followed, blinded by tears he could not blink away. He was pushed onto the couch, and he didn’t even notice the arm pulling him against a shoulder.

It wasn’t _fair_. Light above he should have gotten in touch with him sooner. He should have reached out instead of assuming that Khadgar didn’t need or want him. He should have spoken. He should have done _something_. Now it was too late. He had confessed… and they had days. _Days_ , not weeks, months, years, to spend with each other.

He snapped, something within him finally breaking free. Unable to keep his misery in, he sobbed. And the storm broke loose. The dignified Guardian of Tirisfal was gone, a mortal man heartbroken and grieving left in his wake.

Not that he cared anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

II.

Khadgar shuddered as Medivh held him, hands entwined. He could feel the flash of cold in the younger mage’s skin, and counted, slowly. Heat replaced the cold. He counted again. He nuzzled Khadgar’s neck when the younger mage whimpered, held him more tightly when the shivering started, rocking him gently, murmuring in his ear.

“I’m here. I’m here, Young Trust…” he soothed, wishing there was something more he could do. It was several long moments before Khadgar sighed, relaxing a little.

“I think … I think it’s over,” Khadgar whispered, turning to bury his face against Medivh’s shoulder.

Medivh sighed, and let Khadgar’s hands go, moving his own to rub Khadgar’s back. “Are you all right?”

“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” Khadgar murmured. He pulled away and looked down, pulling his shirt up so he could check the lines that were still creeping along his skin. They were so close to his heart now that he wasn’t sure how long they still had. He dropped the shirt’s hem and sighed. “Hand me Alodi’s journal?” he asked softly.

Medivh dug through the stack of books on the table beside him and handed over the book in question. “Have you an idea?” he asked, not bothering to pick up one of his mother’s journals that he had been poring over.

“I might. There has to be something about fel wounds – somewhere. I figure if I go back to the beginning…”

“And see if one of the elves dealt with one?”

“Exactly,” Khadgar murmured, opening the dusty tome, blowing on it gently to dislodge some of the dust, and gently began to page through it.

Medivh watched him for a moment; watched the blue eyes dart back and forth as he took in the words on the pages. He opened his mouth, intending to tell Khadgar they were chasing nothing, but closed it again. He couldn’t. He couldn’t take his former student’s hope away from him. Not when… not when he had some hope left that they could find a solution. He couldn’t give up. Not when Khadgar hadn’t.

The lines between Khadgar’s brows creased a little, and Medivh smiled, just a little. They were a little deeper now, perhaps, but the expression was the same one he had found his apprentice in many times. He sighed, looking up at the mantel-clock. He hissed an intake of breath, then very gently reached over, slid a finger between the pages and closed the book with the rest.

“Enough,” he said, firmly. “I should have known by your dosage that it was far later than we should be up.”

Khadgar blinked, looking up with a disgruntled expression. “But—“

“No. Bath. Sleep.”

Khadgar huffed a long-suffering sigh, moved another couple of books to the table in front of him, and got up off the couch with a creak of his joints. He reached up, stretching, slowly.

Medivh slid a scrap of parchment into the journal to mark Khadgar’s place, then set the book on top of the stack they were in the middle of. He stood up and followed Khadgar’s example, then followed him into the bathroom, running a bath for his … Medivh wasn’t sure what to call him now. Were they lovers? In the end, it didn’t matter. Their feelings had been discussed and accepted. They were what they were.

He gently helped Khadgar into the tub before heading for the door Khadgar had come from, somewhat amused that he hadn’t noticed how much tea they had gone through until … well. Now.

By the time he returned and settled into the chair Khadgar had draped his clothing over, Khadgar was reclining with his eyes closed. He reached a hand up out of the water, and Medivh took it. Whatever they were, they didn’t need more than each other’s presence. For now, anyway.

Khadgar stayed with Medivh as the older mage followed with a bath of his own, settled into the chair with a towel wrapped around his hips, and poked fun at Medivh’s hair when his former master had taken the ribbon that held it out and let his hair fall free. In turn, Medivh resisted the urge to throw water at him.

Medivh hadn’t bothered trying to find space to sleep in the sitting room the night before. He simply slipped into Khadgar’s bed, and it seemed it was a welcome gesture, considering that he wound up with his arms full of his former student.

Once they were dry, they didn’t even speak; they went to bed.

As Medivh lowered the lights, Khadgar reached to touch his hand. “Leave them low. Not… not off.”

Medivh lowered his hand. “When did you become afraid of the dark, Khadgar?” he teased.

Khadgar shook his head. “I … I want to be able to look at you,” he said softly.

Medivh left the lights glowing dimly, curling his arm around Khadgar’s back instead. They took a moment to settle, but a pair of tired sighs chorused into the dim light. Followed by soft laughter.

Medivh tilted his head to kiss Khadgar’s forehead – but Khadgar dodged and lifted his own to steal a kiss of his own. One kiss turned into two. Two turned into many.

The moon was nearly set before they slept, but neither really cared much, considering they’d fallen asleep able to feel the other breathing against their skin.

 

The glass shattered against the stonework of the fireplace, and the strangled scream of frustration made Medivh jump. Khadgar stood with clenched fists, his breathing slow, forced.

“Khadgar—“

“ _Don’t_.”

Medivh fell silent. He had never seen the younger man lose his temper – not to this extent. Oh he knew his student had a temper; they had had at least one shouting match during Khadgar’s time in Karazhan, but… but this…

Lightning arced across the backs of Khadgar’s hands, occasionally streaking up his arms. His eyes glowed an angry red.

And then it was gone as he drew a deep breath and exhaled explosively. “Damn it,” he said softly, dropping to sit on the couch again. He dropped his head into his hands, and Medivh could see him shaking.

Judging that it was safe to go to him, Medivh did so, gathering his lover against him. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. Khadgar turned and twined his fingers into the back of Medivh’s shirt, giving himself over to another fit of angry weeping.

Another dead end. Another false hope snuffed out.

Another day gone.

 

“Absolutely _not_! Are you _insane_?” Medivh stared Khadgar down, and he ignored the glow in his former student’s eyes.

“What does it _matter_? I’m going to be dead in a few days anyway and—“

“ _Don’t you dare say that again, Khadgar._ ”

Khadgar recoiled. “Something must be able to overpower it,” he said softly.

“Experimenting with concentrated mana dust is what got you _into_ this mess, Khadgar. I’m not about to let you _liquefy ley energy_ and _drink it_.” Medivh snarled.

Khadgar sighed. “Then what do _you_ propose?”

Medivh raised his hands helplessly. “I don’t _know_ ,” he sobbed. “ _I don’t know_.”

Khadgar resisted the urge to tear his lab apart as he pulled Medivh against him and found himself nearly squeezed breathless.

There had to be a better way.

There had to be a solution.

There had to be another day…

 

Medivh woke when sunlight crept into his eyes. He lifted his hand from Khadgar’s back and shielded his eyes from its onslaught. He was still sore, though felt better than he had in days. From Khadgar’s soft breathing, he could tell his lover had slept far better after last night as well.

“Med?” Khadgar murmured, his voice thick with sleep. Medivh would never tire of hearing his nickname in that voice. Never.

“It’s late,” he murmured back, squinting at the repaired window. “I wonder why no one woke us.” He wondered if _someone_ knew, and that’s why no one had awakened them earlier. Kalec probably looked in on them when they usually rose, looked around and figured out what happened.

Khadgar shrugged a shoulder, and wordlessly began to work his legs free of Medivh’s. His movements were a little stiff.

Medivh hid his smile. “Feh,” he muttered, hauling himself into a sitting position. “Are you hurting?” he asked, trying to reckon the time from Khadgar’s last dose. He should have been starting to get twinges by now.

“No,” the reply came, punctuated by a yawn. “Not yet.”

“Good, let’s keep it that way.” Medivh reached for the vial on the bedside table, and turned to Khadgar. His heart stopped. The vial slid from numb fingers. “No…” the word was breathed in disbelief. “ _No…_ ” The vial forgotten, he reached to seize Khadgar’s chin, holding it up.

Khadgar tried to pull away, still sleep-dazed. “Medivh, what is it?” He reached for the vial and stopped, his eyes widening. Medivh let him go. Khadgar had seen the lines along his arms, creeping like vines, spiderwebbed across the skin. “Medivh,” he gasped. “Wh-what does… this…?” His voice shook as he turned his arm over, his eyes following one of the lines as it vined up his wrist.

“Shh… Take that – the whole thing. I’m going to get Priestess Briyanna.” Medivh slid out of bed, snatching his robe from the foot of the bed and pulling it on over his head, shrugging it into place as he hunted for his pants. He pulled them on with impatience and nearly broke the laces as he fastened them. He slid his feet into his house-boots and  headed for the door as he wriggled his feet into them. Once he was clear of the door he ran through the study and the sitting room, unlocking the outer door before he got to it, pulled it open, and ran down the hall.

Secrecy be damned. They were out of time.

He knew he was disheveled and didn’t care. He got stares and pointed fingers as he ran for the Council chamber, knowing Kalec at least would know what his appearance outside of Khadgar’s quarters would mean.

And he did. He didn’t even bother to ask questions, just grabbed the Magus by the arm and teleported them directly into the Priest’s order hall.

Briyanna leaned over the planning table in the center, pointing to something, then assigning someone to investigate a disturbance. Someone ran up to her and tugged at her sleeve, then pointed to the pair of mages that had appeared.

The priestess looked up, and the color drained from her face. “There’s something that needs my immediate attention,” she hissed to Alonsus Foal – at least Medivh _thought_ that’s who it was. Even undeath could never keep the Archbishop from his duty it seemed.

A moment later she was striding towards them, avoiding running to keep from attracting more attention. “What happened?” she asked without preamble.

“The lines,” Medivh murmured. She reached up and silenced him.

“Take me to him,” she demanded.

Kalec complied without a word, landing them back in Khadgar’s sitting room.

Briyanna broke into a run the moment her feet landed; there was a scream from somewhere beyond the study, and the nature of it chilled her heart. Medivh was a pace behind her.

Khadgar was on his knees in front of his mirror, his eyes fixated on his hands. He was clad only in a loose pair of pants, and the lines had crept across his back from below.

Medivh was at his side before Briyanna was, pulling him up and into his arms. He caught the priestess’ grim expression as he carried his lover back into the bedroom and laid him on the bed, trying to get some sense out of him.

The door closed. “Get him out of those pants, if you would,” Briyanna ordered calmly. “Has he been dosed?”

“I told him to take – wait.” Medivh picked up the empty vial that had been left on the bedside table. “Yes. This was half full.”

Briyanna hissed, then nodded, slowly, moving closer. Her eyes followed the lines back to the joint of thigh and torso. “It hit his femoral,” she breathed. “Light…” She looked up at Medivh. “Out.”

Medivh started to protest. “I can’t leave him – not now.”

Briyanna softened just a little. “I understand how you feel, but…” She looked at him, then at Khadgar. Her shoulders sagged. “Hold him. Talk to him. I’m going to hurt him.” Her voice was clipped, but Medivh didn’t care. He settled himself on the bed and pulled Khadgar against his chest, the same way he had every time the pain and disorientation came after he dosed.

Their hands entwined and Khadgar finally showed some signs of life. “N-no.. just let it go, it’s not worth…”

Medivh wasn’t sure what the priestess did, other than staring at him with eyes blazing, but Khadgar shut his mouth, clenched his jaw, and submitted. Medivh himself had to fight not to slap the words out of Khadgar’s head.

Briyanna rested her hands on the scar in his chest, then dragged a finger down the line into his hip joint, then pressed her palm to it, and began to murmur. Her voice was like chimes, sweet and musical as she called to the Light for power. Medivh had heard such sound only once… and it had chilled him to his core.

Naaru song.

Then again, the staff in her other hand was most certainly of a Naaru essence. Perhaps that was why.

He watched, even as he murmured to Khadgar comforts that he could not bring himself to believe in. He watched the priestess fail, try again, fail, and nearly burn herself out trying again. She rested, drawing strength from the staff. She tried again. And again. And again.

She was in tears now, whether for her own pain or his, Medivh could not tell. She looked up at him. “Out,” she ordered, her voice soft. “I … I have one more thing I can try, but I could kill you if you’re in here.”

Khadgar’s hands convulsively tightened on Medivh’s. Medivh however, nodded, gently freeing himself from Khadgar’s grip and laying him back. He leaned down, brushing his lips against Khadgar, not caring they had an audience. “Be strong,” he murmured. “I won’t leave you. I will never leave you.”

Khadgar nodded, and Medivh left, closing the door behind him, heading into the sitting room.

Modera had apparently joined Kalec, and they both looked up from their chairs. Kalec got up and pushed Medivh onto the couch. “How is he? What’s going on?”

Medivh looked at Modera, then at Kalec. He opened his mouth to speak, but instead a wail of despair escaped him, wordless and raw. Modera closed her eyes. Kalec pulled Medivh against him as he sat down.

It was a long moment before Medivh could regain his composure. It was a longer moment before he could get the words out. “It’s over, unless she can find some … some way… He’s – He’s _dying_ , Kalec. And I … I can’t…”

He felt a hand on his shoulder; he assumed it was Modera. He knew who she was; she was on the Council for a very long time. “I wish I had stopped him sooner,” she said softly, her voice thick with guilt. “I knew. I knew what he was doing…”

“None of us could have stopped him from what he did on the Shore,” Kalec said, flatly. “Damn it, if I’d known what he intended to do I never would have…”

“I should have kept in contact,” Medivh sobbed. “He may never have…”

Arms encircled him from behind. “We all – all – failed him,” Modera murmured.

“There’s still a chance,” Kalec murmured, thickly. “There’s still… She’s still with him. She hasn’t given in.”

There was a flare of gold light from the study and a cry of pain torn from a masculine throat. Medivh stiffened. Kalec and Modera held him in place. A second cry drew a pained moan from Modera, and Medivh felt her head drop against his shoulder. He shifted to pull her into his and Kalec’s shared embrace. It was all they could do for each other, as another cry came.

A frustrated scream. Another flare. A wail of pain.

Silence.

Medivh had no will even to cry. He gently dislodged himself from Modera and Kalec, and stood up, pacing the length of the room for a moment, then dropped onto one of the armchairs. Kalec had moved closer to Modera, trying to offer some comfort to her still.

The bedroom door opened, then closed. Briyanna stumbled into the room, leaning on anything that was in her path from walls to furniture as well as her staff. She collapsed into the other armchair.

No one spoke. Medivh could see that both Kalec and Modera were staring at her, even as he did. The priestess was panting, her breath shivering as she drew it. She was grey with exhaustion, and her staff was dull as she dropped it at her side.

Medivh bit his lip, then rose to kneel at her side, resting one hand on hers. For a moment, hope rose in his heart as he tried to offer her what little strength he had to offer. Her hand turned in his, and curled around it, then tightened. He looked up.

She shook her head, slowly. The silence thickened. “I tried,” she whispered, her voice loud in Medivh’s ears, shattering what little hope he had left. “Light _help me_ ,” she murmured, her voice breaking, “I _tried_.” Her free hand lifted to her face as she shook with sobs she did not have the strength to voice. “I can’t stop them. The dust isn’t stopping them.” Her voice was barely a whisper, her strength gone, but she may as well have been screaming. She trembled with exhaustion as she looked down at Medivh, trying to offer him … something. “I tried _everything_. _We_ tried everything…”

Medivh squeezed her hand, a silent acknowledgement. He knew. He saw what she had put herself through.

“How much time do we have, High Priest?” Modera murmured into the silence.

Medivh felt her shrug. “Hours?” She shook her head, slowly. “No more than that… Unless there is some kind of delayed reaction and…” She shrugged again, helplessly. “I would not count on it.”

Modera swore, the words sobbed. Kalec put an arm around her, then looked up. “We need to convene the Council,” he murmured. “Briyanna, will you join us?”

Medivh stood up, offering her his hand and her staff as the priestess nodded.

“Do you need—“ Medivh began.

“No,” Kalec replied quickly. “You stay here with him.” He looked back toward the study and the closed bedroom door. “ _He_ needs you,” he continued softly. “More now than ever.”

Kalec helped Modera to her feet as she swore again, more colorfully. “Why?” she wailed. “Why would he _do_ this?”

Medivh swallowed. He knew the answer to that, more than anyone in the room could possibly understand. He found the words came easily, as easily as he had once said them, years ago. “A Guardian does what he must,” he murmured quietly. “No matter the cost to himself.”

Khadgar had bought lives, time, renewed fervor for Azeroth’s forces. At the cost of his own life.

Modera shook her head, lifting a hand to rub her eyes and cheeks, unable to answer. Kalec led her out.

Briyanna turned to Medivh, her hand still in his. “I… I am deeply sorry, Magus,” she whispered. “I swear to you I did everything I could. Had I tried to do more—“

“You would have burned yourself out, and Azeroth needs you,” Medivh murmured, squeezing her hand. There was a quiet, unspoken ‘Azeroth needs you more than I need him’, but he refused to give it voice. “Thank you, for all you’ve done.”

She nodded, squeezed his hand, then slid her hand from his and brushed his cheek. “Go. Go to him. He… he does not look good, so… be aware. I … I dosed him again. He will feel no pain, and he will remain … himself. Let him near no mirrors, should he try to get up.”

Medivh nodded, and she looked like she wanted to say more, but shook her head, took a slow breath and left. He locked the door behind her, then headed for the bedroom. He paused with his hand on the latch, steeling himself, then opened the door.

The time between the first scream and now had not been kind. Khadgar’s skin was spiderwebbed with black and glowing green lines, and was pale against them. His arms were lined to the wrists, one line creeping along the bck of his left hand. Two were edging upwards along his throat. His eyes were closed, his face shone with tears.

Medivh closed the door, shedding his robe as he returned to the bed, kicking off his boots. He pulled the blankets back from under one arm, and winced. The line across his chest had found its mark at last, and from there more lines crept to his other side following veins and spreading in random directions. There was another line down to his other hip into the join between groin and torso, and it too had burst like an ember, spreading lines down his other leg.

He was unable to stop staring for a moment. Guilt rose, black and thick into his heart. _I’ve killed him,_ he thought miserably. _I_ never _should have let last night happen. We might have had more time. We might have been able to find another way… But I’ve killed him … my selfishness … my cowardice… Oh Light why_ him _? Why couldn’t you have taken me instead? I’ve lived more than long enough… he… he has… years. Decades…_

He swallowed, and for a moment, wondered if he could move the blanket back into place, walk away and return to Karazhan… and let the world forget him again.

“Medivh?” Khadgar turned his head, and slowly, his eyes opened, the clear, crystalline blue irises focusing on him after a heartbeat or two. Medivh bit his lip, trying not to break down again at the … clarity… in those eyes. A hand lifted from where Medivh had moved the blankets, the lines creeping along the back of it to the fingers. The eyes turned pleading.

He was helpless to deny those eyes. Medivh sat down, then lay down, gathering Khadgar against him, folding his arms around the younger mage as though he could will his lover to live with just that embrace.

Khadgar settled into Medivh’s arms, curling against his chest, leaning a little into the hand that lifted to stroke his hair. They stayed that way for a long moment. Khadgar lifted a hand, seeking Medivh’s. He caught it in his free hand and curled his fingers against Khadgar’s, entwining them and ignoring the lines that spiraled up the fingers.

“Medivh?” Khadgar’s voice was … small. Vulnerable.

“Hm?” Medivh murmured. “What is it, Young Trust?”

“What does it feel like?” Medivh closed his eyes. He felt Khadgar lift his head a little, shifting to rest it on Medivh’s shoulder so he could look up at his lover and meet his eyes.

“What?” Medivh asked, looking down and meeting the eyes gone nearly silver as they gazed up at him in a silent plea.

“Dying,” Khadgar murmured. “What does it feel like? Does it hurt?”

Medivh swallowed, shaking his head. “Shh… you shouldn’t be thinking like that. There’s—“

“No hope, Medivh,” Khadgar cut him off, softly, his voice resigned. “I already know I don’t have much longer.” He shifted a little, watching Medivh’s eyes fill with tears. “Please,” he begged. “Tell me.”

Medivh closed his eyes, ignoring the tears that escaped. How could he answer that? When he had died, he died by the hands of the only person he’d ever truly loved and trusted, cursed by his own power by a demon that tortured his own mind before tearing Khadgar’s life into shreds. He died looking into a pair of hardened pale blue eyes, wishing with all of his being that he could tell those eyes the truth. He died hating himself for what he had done. He looked back down into those blue eyes, silvered with fear. “It’s different for everyone, Khadgar,” he replied, his voice soft, but surprisingly steady. “For some, it’s a painful battle. For others, they quietly sleep, and never know they are gone until they seek the Light.” He lifted his head to touch his lips to Khadgar’s forehead. “For me, it hurt. But there was a profound feeling of… freedom. It was as though the weight I carried for so long was suddenly lifted, and I felt myself, free for the first time in my life.” He paused, blinking tears away again. “The pain in your eyes – wounded me. I didn’t want to leave you like I did – not like that. Not knowing you would bear the burdens I had, and all of the ones I had created.” He sighed. He had left Khadgar a giant mess; a wreck of a world. Two worlds that fate had bound together by his own hands, if not his own mind. “But, I was free, at long last. It… It overrode… everything else.”

It overrode the sorrow, the hatred, the crushing despair, the longing… For a moment, just a moment, he felt… joy… as he spread his wings and … He had expected the Light to reject him, and it had. He went to the Nether, left to wander until he was … returned. Khadgar at least would not feel that pain of purgatory; with all he had done with his life, he would seek, and find, the Light waiting with open arms, Medivh was sure of it.

Khadgar was quiet for a while. “I’m afraid,” he whispered.

Medivh bit back a sob, the raw emotion in those simple words driving a blade more painful than the physical one his apprentice had driven into his heart.

“I know, Khadgar,” he murmured. “I know.” He tilted his head to brush his lips against Khadgar’s, ignoring the lines creeping along them and up his cheeks. “I would give anything to make this easier on you. I would give anything – _anything_ – to take this from you.” A tear slid from his eye, unchecked and unheeded, sliding down his cheek and onto Khadgar’s, following the tracks that had fallen before it.

“Live in my stead,” Khadgar murmured softly.

“No,” Medivh cut him off, quickly. “No, I cannot. I cannot ever hope to be what you have become,” he sobbed, unable to stop himself. “Do not ask this of me…” _Not as you die. Light please don’t ask this of me…_

“Live for your own sake, then,” Khadgar insisted, his voice still soft, but determined. “P-Promise me you won’t do something like … like I did.”

Medivh rested his head against Khadgar’s, meeting his eyes again. “Every Guardian makes sacrifices,” he murmured softly. _Just as you have…_

Khadgar dropped his eyes. _Light, even now you doubt,_ Medivh thought bitterly. Silence fell between them for several heartbeats.

“Medivh, I’m sorry.” The words were heavy, laden with a lifetime of sorrow and apologies.

“Shh. Don’t. There is nothing to be sorry for.” _All is forgiven… Was forgiven before you could even think of asking…_ Medivh lifted his hand, bringing Khadgar’s with it, brushing tears from beneath Khadgar’s eyes with gentle fingertips.

“I’ve failed you,” Khadgar insisted, his voice shaking. “I’ve failed _Azeroth_.” _And still you think you are no kind of Guardian, speaking that way as you … as you…_

“You have done no such thing,” Medivh barely stopped himself from snapping. “The last reports were that the tide was turning, the Tomb _will_ fall, and we will press on.” He shifted so he could look at Khadgar more easily, trying to ignore the spread of three more lines twisting like tendrils of morning vine around his throat and up into his cheeks to web with the ones already there. He ignored the one that had crept to his temple. “Promise me something, Khadgar.”

“Anything,” Khadgar replied, instantly.

“You’ll be there, waiting for me.”

Khadgar tried to smile. “Of course.” His voice had faded to nearly nothing, the words only words because his lips made them that way. “I’m so afraid…” he admitted, shivering.

Medivh adjusted his hold so he was cradling Khadgar against him, leaning to kiss the temple, watching the line there curve along Khadgar’s forehead and into his hair. It would be over soon… “It will be all right, Young Trust. It will be all right.”

“Even now… you call me that.” Khadgar breathed, fondly.

“You will always – always – be my Young Trust, Khadgar. Always,” Medivh murmured, one hand moving to cradle the back of his head.

Sapphire, pure crystalline sapphire met emerald. Medivh did not look away. Khadgar smiled. “Medivh, I… I l-lo…” The sapphire dulled to a deadened blue-grey. The lids slid closed.

Medivh felt the fingers in his go limp, and he closed his eyes, ignoring the tears. He didn’t have the strength to weep. His heart felt like it had been torn from his chest, even as he pulled Khadgar’s limp form against him, his cheek resting against the soft silver of his love’s hair.

A chill breeze slipped into the room from the open window, sending the curtains fluttering. A bell tolled, softly, a series of two, three, two, somewhere deep within Dalaran – heralding a Guardian’s death.

Medivh looked up at the curtains, distracted by the movement. Light caused him to look back down. He stared as violet and blue fire spread from Khadgar’s heart along the lines, burning away the green and black, leaving the skin clear. Medivh blinked, hope fluttering somewhere, feebly, in his heart where it had died hours ago. Khadgar’s body glowed violet for a moment, and then, as though he had never existed, was gone, pulled into a swirling vortex where his heart had lay just a moment before.

Medivh stared at the suddenly empty space, his eyes wide. “No,” he murmured… then screamed, his voice broken and hoarse, so pained even he didn’t recognize it. His arms automatically folded against his chest, as though trying to pull Khadgar’s body from the empty air. There was nothing left – nothing to show that his beloved had been there just heartbeats before. There was no evidence at all, not even an imprint on the pillow, or wrinkle in the blanket that had covered him. Medivh let his arms fall against the mattress, his eyes flooding and spilling over.

It wasn’t _fair._ It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t right. Again, he wanted to scream his rage to the Light, to the Void, to anything that would listen to him if … if only it _would_ listen. This wasn’t how mages were meant to die. This wasn’t how _Khadgar_ was meant to die. He rolled over a little, his hand sliding up so he could at least pull Khadgar’s pillow against him, needing… needing to hold _some_ part of what he had just lost.

His fingers brushed against something hard between the sheets. He closed his fingers around it and withdrew it as he sat up, cradling the item in his palm as he rubbed his eyes with his other hand.

It was a sapphire. It was a sapphire that was a blue between the color of his eyes when he was happy, and the brilliant azure of Khadgar’s magic signature. A light pulsed within it, flickering and feeble, like a dying heartbeat.

Once. Twice. It tried a third, but it stuttered… and went dead, now just a dormant, if brilliant, gem. Medivh closed his fingers around it and held it to his heart. It was still warm, and _felt_ like Khadgar. As though the gem touching the skin of his chest released something, Medivh wept anew. No matter how much he tried to stop, he was unable. Not until he had nothing left; his eyes burned, his nose ached and he couldn’t breathe, but still he wept until he simply had no strength left to do so.

He didn’t remember laying back down. But he did… and he slept, deep and dreamless, the sapphire in his hand still against his heart.


	3. Chapter 3

III.

 

He woke all at once, his eyes clear, his hands clasped at his heart. The warm facets of the sapphire in his fingers were reassuring to him, somehow, even now.  He wondered why no one had come in. He had not been disturbed for however long he had been here.

Perhaps it had gotten around that he was in mourning and not to be disturbed. He lifted himself from Khadgar’s pillows, looking out of the window. It was either early morning or early evening judging by the light.

Holding the sapphire in one hand, the other ran over Khadgar’s pillow reverently. Not a day ago, they had spilled everything to one another. Not a day ago, Khadgar had asked him to live.

Some time ago, Khadgar had told him that Azeroth needed her Guardian. And Medivh had replied that _he_ was no longer her Guardian, but his apprentice was far more qualified – without the title, without the Power of the Tirisfalen, it didn’t matter.

It was a hard role to fill. Especially after all he had done.

Azeroth needed a Guardian.

Medivh sighed. He would have to suffice. He would do as Khadgar had asked. He would do what he had begged Khadgar not to ask of him. He would live on, in his lover’s stead.

He slid from the bed, loath to leave it, longing to just curl up until Time took him. But he could not. The Legion was still out there. The Tomb had yet to be breached.

He found the robes he wore when he himself had acted as Guardian, and he wondered if he somehow knew he would need them again when he’d packed. They were a little worn, but no less what they were. He swung the cloak around his shoulders, but hesitated as he went to pull the hood up. After a moment of contemplation, he let it fall back, and pulled his long hair from beneath the fabric, letting it flow freely from where it was bound at the nape of his neck.

He slipped the sapphire into his belt pouch, and reached for Atiesh, hesitating. What if it didn’t accept him after … after… He shook his head, his fingers brushing the shaft reverently. It warmed at his touch, recognizing its former master. He lifted it from where it rested against the wardrobe.

The news must have spread by now that Khadgar was … gone. He had to stem the panic, to prove that even with Khadgar gone, he was still able to act.

And act he would.

The Legion – Sargeras – would _pay._

 

The Avatar of Sargeras was exactly as he had seen in visions of his own mother’s battles. Exactly as it seemed to be described in every epic poem he had memorized in his youth. And yet… and yet… it was… pathetic, as it lay dormant and destroyed. The champions and heroes who had taken the thing down were now sifting through the remains to see if there was anything useful.

Medivh turned to the portal, his heart aching.

_It may be simpler to shut a door than to pass through it. But sometimes a step into the unknown is required to break the bonds of fate._

Was it really so little time ago that he had given Khadgar that warning? He shook his head. And passed through the door, taking the step into the unknown.

He felt … numb… He could only offer words of encouragement as he sent what little protections he could to aid those taking on Kil’jaedan. He did not belong here. It was never meant to be him…

And yet… as the ship plummeted towards what was left of Argus, he stared at it, eyes narrowed. And then turned to the others. “At least our deaths will not have been in vain. We have struck a blow that will resonate—“

“I have no intention of dying here, Guardian.” Illidan grinned at him, and held out a green gem. Medivh’s eyes widened. “We have our way home.”

Medivh grinned as he watched Azeroth come into view across the Great Dark. “Well then.” He planted Atiesh, drawing a deep breath and calling every bit of power he could. Teleportation across such distance was not impossible, but teleportation of that kind of precision with so many people… so many factors… with so small a target…

A spot against his heart began to pulse, and he glanced down. Azure tendrils began to spiral along his arms, and he felt the teleportation spell being augmented. He closed his eyes. “Guide me then, Young Trust. You know the world better than I, these days…”

 

It had been Illidan’s intent to remain behind and keep Sargeras prisoner. Medivh shook his head. “No. Prisoners can escape. Forgive me if you think this is personal, but I will see him _destroyed_ if it is the last act I ever commit.”

“You’re mad, Magus. You realize that you may never see Azeroth again if you do this? I was prepared for this. I prepared my whole life for this.” Illidan glared at Medivh, who just shook his head again.

“It was _my_ body he had taken,” Medivh murmured softly. Several of the others shuffled their feet, backing away. “Using my own will, _my_ body, _my mind_ against me, he set the Legion loose on Azeroth. He took my very life from me. And I will see him destroyed. No matter the cost to myself.” _The only thing I truly had left to live for now rests against my heart anyway. It doesn’t matter if I never go home._

Velen sighed, resting a hand on Medivh’s shoulder. “It is your choice, Guardian.”

“You have a life ahead of you, Illidan Stormrage. Go and live it. I may yet return. When I do, it will be with the assurance that Sargeras is dead and gone, and will have no further influence on anyone.” Medivh’s eyes hardened to chips of deepest emerald, and he matched Illidan’s glare.

And finally, the demon hunter bowed his head. “Very well. If you should require aid…”

“I will find you.”

 

Sargeras raised his hand, his blade manifesting in it, but it was not a hunter who aided the Pantheon. It was a mage.

Medivh seized the hand in an arcane grip born of years of lust for vengeance. A grip born of hatred so strong it bordered on obsession. “Not this time,” he hissed, yanking back on the power and the blade disintegrated. “You will never harm Azeroth again – not as long as I still draw breath.”

The face that haunted his dreams and nightmares turned towards him, and a mad grin lifted the Titan’s lips. He turned, reaching for the mage whose body he once had claimed.

Medivh dropped to one knee, holding Atiesh firmly in his hand. Let them all think he was a pawn once more.

The hand closed around him, and he held his breath. Waiting.

_You would sacrifice yourself for Her?_

_Of course I would. Isn’t that what you are doing now?_

_I sacrifice myself… for you. For your cause._

_I thought I told you to live, Medivh._

_Not without you._

_Then I suppose we both go home, hm?_

The pendant at his throat warmed, and Medivh smiled as he felt his lover’s power manifest once more, and he let his own join it. He only hoped Atiesh would survive the experience. He _was_ rather fond of the artifact…

 

The fireblast was visible from Azeroth.

Modera stared at the sky, Kalec with her. The signature laced in the azure flames was unmistakable, as was the one in the violet ones that accompanied it.

“Impossible,” Modera breathed.

“But… clearly possible. No one else could possibly duplicate his signature, Modera. No one. No one can come close to a Guardian’s signature – you heard what Alodi said.” Kalec shook his head. “He left nothing of himself behind.”

“That we know of,” Modera sighed. “I … suspect he did. You did see the pendant that Medivh started wearing shortly after…”

“It could be something Khadgar left for him, yes,” Kalec mused, watching as the blue and violet flames warred with the deep reds and oranges tinged with green. “But nothing in it suggested it was more than a… memento.”

Modera shrugged, gesturing at the sky. “A memento wouldn’t be able to do that.”

The rift that had been opened between Azeroth and Argus began to close, and there was a burst of violet, too small to have been another attack.

A moment later, Medivh landed on the balcony where Modera and Kalec stood, bleeding heavily, panting, but smiling.

Just before the rift snapped shut, an explosion that rivaled that of the Well of Eternity shook the space around where the battle had been. Medivh leaned on the railing of the balcony as Kalec and Modera suddenly realized he was there.

“It’s over,” Medivh murmured. “He will never touch another…”

What he would never touch another of Modera and Kalec didn’t catch. Medivh swayed, then sank to his knees. Without another word, he slid to the ground, Atiesh falling from his fingers.

 

Sunlight woke him. He raised an arm to shield his eyes, wincing a little as he did so. When his eyes came into focus, Medivh saw that said arm was heavily bandaged. Blood stained the linen around his wrist. He lifted the other one to see that it was nearly identical.

Automatically, one hand went to his throat, and then his chest, and closed around the small pendant that lay over his heart.

Before he had formally presented himself to the Council, he had sought out Tiffany Jones, and commissioned a pendant to include the sapphire as its focus. The sapphire was not large, but he did notice that it was the perfect size and shape to be a part of a raven’s body – or its wing.

The silver embraced the small gem perfectly, and allowed its brilliance to shine through. The raven’s eye, a chip of the rare blue-tinted Azerothian diamond, glittered in the sunlight, just as Khadgar’s eyes had.

“We’ve done it,” he murmured softly. “It’s over, Young Trust.” He sighed softly. He had expected his attack to kill him along with Sargeras, but clearly Khadgar had other ideas. Together, they had stopped Sargeras.

And perhaps, just perhaps, Azeroth would now at last be at peace.

He closed his eyes, falling back asleep, and did not hear the priestess that came in to tend his wounds and change his bandages.

 

“How is he?” Kalec asked tensely as Briyanna closed the door to what had been Khadgar’s bedroom.

“Asleep. He’ll recover fully.” She looked up, biting her lip. “How is his return being treated?”

“With everything from rejoicing to grudging acceptance. Anyone who knew him before is now skeptical, though everyone could see clearly what he had done from here. It will be a little time before he is accepted as Khadgar was, but…” Kalec shrugged. “There is hope yet.”

Briyanna smiled. “Good. Especially because he is not alone.” Kalec raised an eyebrow. “You’ve seen the pendant, have you not?”

Kalec nodded. “I did notice it, yes – I assumed it was something Khadgar left for him.”

Briyanna smiled wider. “It was. You’ve used sympathy. Have a good look at it, the next time you can.” With that cryptic remark, she left.

Curiosity overwhelmed the Blue, and he crossed the study to look in on the sleeping Guardian. Sure enough, one hand lay over the pendant against his heart. He focused on it for a moment, nearly choked, and then backed out of the room.

He kept it to himself. If the others saw, the others saw. At least it was … something. And it was just like Khadgar, too, to simply give Death a rude hand-gesture and find a way to stay where he wanted. The human was always so very stubborn after all.

As he closed the sitting room door, locking it behind him, he thought he heard the familiar laugh, that knowing chuckle.

_Of course I am. And always will be._


End file.
